Saving Marilee

by Annette K. Larsen

  "Well then, you can talk to James if you think anything is unclear. I've never been in the business of passing messages, and I don't mean to start now. You're both adults, and certainly you can work things out without involving me."

  I entered, worried that Edmund might take offense and therefore give offense in return. "Good day, Edmund." I made my voice extra cheery. "You know Mrs. Sutton, I presume?"

  "Yes, we've been acquainted for years." There was a question in his voice, but I wanted nothing but to go riding.

  "We'll be off, then. Have a pleasant afternoon, Edmund."

  Georgiana took the hint and followed me from the room. Once we were mounted and ready to go, I let her lead the way. The stableman that had accompanied her followed behind, along with Leo. Rogue ran at my side.

  Georgiana chose to return to Sutton lands and ride the trails there. I was grateful for the chance to see more of James's property.

  "Why is it that you do not reside at Sutton manor?" I asked.

  "I inherited Maplegrove from my mother's father. I prefer the climate there and it is closer to Winberg city, which I enjoy visiting on occasion. So I was happy to let James take over the manor. This land is well suited for keeping horses, and I've known he had a way with horses since he was a little boy. There was a time when I thought perhaps James and Damian would both raise horses. But Damian's interest was fleeting."

  "What is the quarrel between James and Edmund?"

  She gave a delicate shrug. "You'll have to ask James about that. I don't feel it's my business."

  I respected that. It was good of her not to gossip, but it did leave me at a loss. Knowing more about what had put such animosity between the two would help me in navigating the situation, but I couldn't bring myself to ask either one of them. Perhaps a part of me didn't really want to know.

  "Do you know the song, Posies and Peonies?" Georgiana asked of a sudden.

  I smiled. "Yes, I do." It was a song about the flowers given by lovers. It was sweet and innocent and had a lovely melody.

  Georgiana started to sing it, her voice bright and clear.

  "Why didn't you sing for our little musicale the other night?"

  "I had no one to impress," she replied before continuing with the song.

  I joined my voice with hers, and we sang together, sending our voices at full volume out into the warm air. We sang it three times through before my voice became so strained that I had to stop.

  I convinced Georgiana to race me across one of the fields. Neither of us were very fast, but it was exhilarating nonetheless. When we stopped, Georgiana was fanning herself with her riding crop, which did almost nothing to stir the air. "I think I'm too old for such things. But you should challenge James to a race sometime."

  "Only if I want to be soundly beaten."

  "Of course he would win, but he's a beautiful rider. His father was that way, and it was always a pleasure to watch him ride out, holding nothing back."

  I smiled at her matchmaking attempts. "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Well, my dear. I think I'm done in."

  "I hope I didn't push you too much."

  "Not at all. I just know when it's time to quit." She turned to Leo. "You'll get her safely back, won't you, young man?"

  "Yes'm."

  She bid me farewell and walked her horse toward the Sutton stables.

  "Shall we return, Highness?" Leo asked after I'd been sitting, staring off at Sutton manor for too long.

  "Yes." I pulled Angel around and decided another run wouldn't hurt. I crossed the fields and reached the lane leading to Bridgefield. I encouraged Angel to keep running, though I didn't give her full rein. I rounded a bend in the lane and was startled by another horse coming from the other direction. I panicked and pulled too hard, making Angel rear. I tightened every muscle in my body and managed to stay on, but even when she was back on the ground, she shied and sidestepped. Edmund swung down from his horse and stepped in front of her, grabbing her head until she stilled.

  I breathed in relief. "Thank you."

  "Where have you been?" It wasn't a curious, kind inquiry, but a demand for information.

  "You knew that I was riding with Mrs. Sutton."

  "And where is she now?"

  I pulled my chin back, resentment flushing my cheeks. "She was fatigued and returned to Sutton manor. We only just parted ways."

  "And I'm to believe that?"

  I jerked my reins out of his hands. "I don't care what you believe, because it's none of your concern." I nudged Angel into a trot, leaving Edmund standing in the road.

  Returning to the stables, I hoped that I would make it back to the house without running into Edmund. Such was not the case. He rode up just as I was leaving the stables. "Your Highness, wait."

  I turned on him. "What is it, Lord Rockwell?"

  "I am only trying to help. I worry about who you associate with."

  "Well, there is no need for that. Thus far I have met no one who was half as bad as my own husband." I turned away, but not before seeing the stricken look on his face.

  A twinge of shame cut through me, but I had spoken the truth, and it was nothing he hadn't already known. Still, I had been unkind, knowing that Edmund mourned his brother in a way that I could not understand. But his moods left me reeling. One moment he was flirting with me, and the next he was reprimanding me for associating with the Suttons. I couldn't make sense of him, and the effort was starting to wear me down. If he continued these behaviors, I would ask him to leave.

  How I wished I had the courage to do so now.

  ***

  It had been two days since Edmund's overly friendly advances. We had dined together in relative calm, and he had yet to approach me in the same way. A great deal of that had to do with my talent of avoiding him. I was to be found in my sitting room less and less. I kept to my room when I was going over the needs of the estate or taking tea, and I regularly visited the kitchens to speak with Emeline and her staff. The new staff had found this very strange, and I knew that I made them uncomfortable at first, but they seemed to be more inclined to accept my presence now. They were curious instead of wary about my visits, listening in while they tried to look as though they weren't listening in.

  Whenever my soul started longing for solitude, I would retreat to the upper hall, finding solace in the small confines and bright light of my window alcove. I had collected several books and particularly liked to sit and compose letters to my family. I received regular letters from Lylin and my parents, occasional letters from Ella, and I was pleasantly surprised by how often Lorraina would correspond with me. I still marveled at the change I had seen in her. She told me more about her feelings for Tobias and the tragedy that had resulted. I sensed there was a great deal of turmoil that she held back, that she clung to as a protection. She told me more of her desire to travel elsewhere, to find a master who would help her to improve her painting. I encouraged her in this line of thought, but she was reluctant to take that step.

  I finished my letter to Lorraina and pulled a new sheet of paper toward me. Lylin's most recent letter had been tinged with nervous excitement as she told me of her upcoming wedding and asked if I would attend. Dipping my quill in ink, I proceeded to tell her of my joy at knowing that she would be married soon. I was in the middle of my letter when I heard footsteps coming toward my hiding place. "Is that you, Beatrice?" I called out.

  The curtain was pulled aside and I was shocked when James ducked into the space, filling it with his wide shoulders and tall frame. I stumbled out of my chair, a feeling of indecency settling over me at the realization that I was now secreted away in a very private meeting with a man who I found to be quite irresistible.

  "James..." What did one say to a man when he found you hiding behind a curtain in a deserted hallway?

  He bowed in greeting, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Polite and courteous, that's what I had to remember. I gestured toward the seat I had vacated, because it was th
e only seat in the space. "Would you like to sit?"

  He grinned. "You're going to follow the rules of etiquette while we hide in a window alcove?"

  I blushed furiously and closed my eyes.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured.

  I opened my eyes and found that he had stepped toward me, which meant that there was officially not enough room between us. There was not enough room at all.

  "I appreciate your very kind offer, but," he looked around, "now that we are here, I can think of a much more appropriate pastime for such a lovely setting." His gaze fell to my mouth.

  Wicked man with his wicked smile and wicked suggestions. "I have a feeling that your suggested pastime would be entirely inappropriate. We should go downstairs." I turned to pull the curtain aside, but he caught my little finger. I could have pulled away with no effort at all, but the touch made me stop.

  "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm teasing again, and I know that you don't like that."

  I turned to look at him and found his face to be boyishly contrite.

  "I promise to behave myself. But please don't make me go downstairs. I managed to avoid the detection of your watchdog on my way up, but I doubt I could escape his notice if we were to return downstairs."

  "My watchdog? Do you mean Rogue or Falstone?" I certainly hoped that he hadn't slipped by my guard. That would not speak well of their vigilance.

  "Falstone?" Confusion creased his forehead for just a moment. "Oh, the guard. No, he is at the top of the stairs. I was speaking of my good friend, Edmund."

  "Good friend?"

  His shoulder and the corner of his mouth lifted in unison. "I may be overstating."

  I laughed and leaned back against the wall. "Mr. Tennsworth said that you and the Rockwell children were playmates. What happened?"

  He shrugged, backing up to lean on the wall opposite. "As time passed and we all grew up, it became obvious that we would need to go our separate ways. The Rockwell brothers had an ambition that I couldn't keep up with. And in all honesty, I had no wish to compete with them." He looked out the window. "I can see why you hide here. It's a good view. You could spy on a great many people."

  "I don't spy."

  He cut his eyes over to me with a grin. Teasing again. "What were you doing, hidden away up here?"

  "Writing letters."

  "And who is it you write to?"

  "My family. Who else?"

  "And is your family well? I enjoyed meeting them, though I know there are many more sisters."

  "Five more."

  "Which were you writing to?"

  "Lylin. She's the youngest, the only one younger than I. It seems I will have good reason to travel back to Dalthia in a few weeks. She is getting married in a month."

  He raised his brows in interest. "That's wonderful. Do you know the gentleman?"

  "I don't. She didn't meet him until after I was married. Raina told me a little bit about him, though. She approves, and any praise from Raina is well earned."

  His brow furrowed. "Raina?"

  "Short for Lorraina. You met her."

  "Oh yes, of course." He waved a hand as if realizing the obvious.

  We fell silent and my nerves returned. "Was there a reason for your visit?" I asked to break the tension.

  A slow smile slipped across his lips as if he knew very well that I spoke from nervousness. "Do you think you might be willing to go riding with me tomorrow? I heard the most interesting rumor about you exploring my property without me."

  "You can blame your mother for that."

  "And I will, but I happen to know a great many spots on your own property that are worth exploring."

  "You've been trespassing?"

  He chuckled. "I'm afraid not. But I did do plenty of exploring with the Rockwells when we were children. I think my memory is reliable enough that I could find them again." He looked out the window and I couldn't decide if he truly was interested in the view, or if he was avoiding my eyes. "I know you've at least found the stream, but if you are planning to remain here, it would be good for you to know the best bits of your own property."

  "That's very true."

  "Then you'll go?"

  "Of course."

  He smiled, but didn't say anything, and I started to feel again the closeness of this little space, the intimacy of it. It made me tense and nervous, but it also made me want to close the distance between us. Suddenly his suggestion of appropriate pastimes sounded more appealing. And really, if I wanted to kiss him, how many opportunities would I have without interruptions, or guards on the lookout, or his mother in the same room?

  I wished for the courage to reach out to him, but wondered if I would regret it afterwards. When I was breathing fresh air and didn't have my head full of James, would I once again feel the bitter shame of falling for him when I was so newly a widow?

  Then again, before meeting James, it had been much longer than just a couple months since I had experienced affection. There had been little of it in my marriage to begin with, but it had become nonexistent and, frankly, unwelcome in the months leading up to Damian's death.

  I had always been an affectionate person. I thrived on it. It comforted me and gave me strength; and standing here with this man who I knew would be more than willing to share his affections—it was hard to care about potential regret.

  I was looking into his eyes and didn't know how long he had been gazing back. My thoughts were intense and deeply personal, and I wondered how much my eyes were betraying me at that moment.

  "What are you thinking?" His voice had a raspy quality that did nothing to dispel thoughts of his mouth pressed to mine.

  "I—" I wanted so badly to be brave, so I dug deep inside where the old Marilee still existed to some extent, and I asked her to speak. "I was thinking of appropriate pastimes." My cheeks flamed and I looked at the window, seeing nothing but the glass.

  He moved toward me, and I could feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. My breathing was loud, too loud, and I very seriously considered fleeing from him, running out of this alcove and all the way down the stairs and locking myself in my room. Instead I waited, my palms pressed into the wall behind me.

  He stopped just in front of me and waited until I looked at him. I could feel how wide my eyes were, knew that they must be filled with a vulnerable longing.

  Then he spoke. "Just to be clear. When I mentioned pastimes, I was thinking about kissing you."

  "I know."

  "You regretted it last time. I don't want to be the cause of your regret."

  I shook my head. "You won't." If I did regret it, I would place the blame on my own shoulders.

  He waited one moment more, and I was a breath away from jumping out of my skin when he slowly bent his head and pressed his lips to mine.

  His kisses weren't furious or passionate, but gentle, languid, and profoundly moving. His fingers touched behind my ear, then lightly caressed down my neck. His touch sent tingles up my spine, but when his fingers ran into my scar I pulled back.

  "It's all right," he whispered, his lips hovering over mine. "It's a part of you, and everything about you is lovely." His fingers traced my scar in the gentlest caress and he eased closer, pressing his lips to mine again.

  I pushed up onto my toes so that I wouldn't have to tip my head back so far, and wrapped my arms around his neck for balance. His arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, cramming both of us into the tiny corner of my secret hideaway. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that James had me trapped, completely in his control. Yet I felt no terror, because I knew that the moment I tried to push away, he would let me go. And so I drank him in, letting myself trust him, at least for this beautiful moment.

  The drapes were thrown aside with a shudder. I pulled away and turned toward the window. I didn't want to see who it was and know what they thought of me. I didn't want anyone's judgment to ruin the moments I had just spent with James.

  "James." It was Edmund's livid tones. Of all the pe
ople in this house, why did it have to be Edmund? "You were just leaving, were you not?" It was clear that it wasn't actually a question.

  The last thing I wanted was for these two to get into an argument over the fact that Edmund had caught his brother's new widow in a compromising position with his former friend.

  "I will see you to the door," I muttered and hurried past Edmund. I looked back to be sure that James followed. He stood his ground, defiance blanketing his features as he looked Edmund in the eye for just a moment before turning to follow me, completely unhurried. At the top of the stairs I wrapped my hand around his elbow and tried to pull him down the stairs.

  We reached the first landing, and he let out a sigh. "You don't have to run from him, Marilee."

  "I'm not."

  He stopped, forcing me to do the same. "You are. This is your house, and he has no right to dictate the way you live."

  "I know that." Whether I believed it was a different story.

  "Then why are you scurrying away?"

  "I'm embarrassed!" I whispered in humiliation.

  "To be caught with me?"

  "To be caught at all."

  "Then you regret it?"

  "Being kissed by you? No. Having it interrupted by my dead husband's brother? Yes."

  He continued down the stairs again, looking thoughtful, almost sad. I hated that our moment had been ruined by Edmund. The silence lingered until we reached the front steps, and I hoped that he wouldn't leave, not without saying something, not without bringing some resolution to the situation.

  He waited until the door closed behind us, leaving us alone on the front steps before turning to me. "Would you still like to go riding with me tomorrow, to explore your estate a bit more?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Then I will come by in the afternoon, and we can have a grand adventure." He kissed my hand. "Without your watchdog."

  A breathy laugh escaped. "I assume that my bringing Rogue with us would be acceptable, though?"

  "Of course." He took a step away, but hesitated, looking back at the house. "Don't let him manipulate you."

  I opened my mouth, but had no reply. I was trying, but couldn't seem to find the balance between standing up for myself and being rude. So I said nothing, hoping that he could see how I tried. A groom brought James's horse around, and he pulled himself into the saddle. "Take care of yourself, Marilee." He tipped his hat before trotting down the lane.